


Christmas Witch

by MrsWhozeewhatsis (OxfordCommaLover)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Music, Christmas writing challenge, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 15:43:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9130942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OxfordCommaLover/pseuds/MrsWhozeewhatsis
Summary: The brothers and the reader come across a witch hunt in December.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is for @winchester-writes Christmas Writing Challenge! I honestly didn’t think I’d get this done, with everything else I have going on right now, but I got 7 hours of sleep last night (all in one solid block, too!), and my brain flooded with endorphins and ideas for how to write this! Woo hoo!

You were startled awake by the sound of Dean bellowing from the first floor of the house you were squatting in. At first, you thought Dean might be yelling because it was Christmas morning and you had snuck out during the night to play Santa. You’d bought a small tree, decorated it, and left some presents for the Winchesters underneath it.

Dean didn’t sound happy, though. His screams almost sounded…fearful? When you ran down the stairs, you saw why.

_Three weeks earlier_

“So, get this, a woman from California woke up in Iowa in a barn and has no idea how she got there. She swears she went to bed the night before like normal, but just woke up in Iowa in a feed trough when the owner of the barn came to feed his horses.” Sam looked up to see what reaction you and Dean had, a slight smile dancing on his face.

“Sounds like a pretty awesome prank to me,” Dean said. “Who finally fessed up to it?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Nobody. The farmer called the police, the woman was charged with trespassing, even though she claimed to be the victim and demanded the police find her kidnapper.”

Your brow furrowed as you considered logistics. “How long was she asleep for?”

Sam studied the screen of his laptop. “Not long. She went to bed at 11pm in California, and the farmer woke her up at 5am in Iowa. Considering the time zones, she was only asleep for four hours.”

Dean scrunched his mouth into a pouty frown and grunted. “There’s no way she could have gotten from California to Iowa in 4 hours. It’s more than a day’s drive, and someone would have had to drug her and use a private plane to fly her. Even then, they’d be cutting it close.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Sounds like our kind of thing.”

“Anything else happening either where she’s from or where she ended up?” Dean asked, getting up to grab beers for all of you.

Sam checked out the Iowa news stories while you researched the woman’s hometown in California. Before long, you found another weird story.

“’Local woman rendered mute by mystery illness’,” you read aloud to the brothers. “According to this, a woman was eating dinner with her family, when suddenly she couldn’t speak. Fearing a stroke, her husband rushed her to the hospital. They spent all night conducting tests, trying to figure out what was wrong with her, but never found the cause. In the morning, her voice returned, and they still don’t know what happened. Her husband said she seemed fine besides her inability to talk, and was surprised that she wasn’t more upset about the ordeal as it was happening.”

Sam stopped searching through Iowa and focused on California. “This can’t be a coincidence. Here’s a story about a Jewish man who suddenly went nuts decorating his house for Christmas. Inside 24 hours, he practically bought out the Christmas section of three stores and quote, ‘turned his house into something that would make the Griswolds jealous.’” Sam stopped reading and looked at you with furrowed brows. “Who are the Griswolds?”

Your jaw dropped. “National Lampoon? Christmas Vacation? Clark Griswold covering every square inch of his house with lights and his brother-in-law moving into his driveway in his broken-down RV?” you looked back and forth between the brothers, seeing no signs of recognition on either of their faces. “You guys seriously need some education about Christmas and good Christmas movies.” You shake your head and go back to your research.

Dean slaps a hand on the table and starts getting up. “Well, three weird stories makes it definitely one of ours, so gear up. We’ve got work to do.”

By the time you arrived in town and realized there was no motel nearby, you’d found three more cases and figured out some of what was going on. The clincher was the man who rode around town for a day in a horse and carriage, despite a freak snow storm that had cropped up out of nowhere.

“Oh, my God, it’s fucking _JINGLE BELLS_ ,” you groaned when it finally hit you.

“Wha-??” both brothers asked, confused looks on their faces.

“He was dashing through the snow, in a one-horse open sleigh! Get it?”

Both brothers suddenly nodded and said, “Ohhhhhh,” in unison.

“The woman that woke up in Iowa?” Sam asked.

“You said she woke up in a feed trough, right?” Sam nodded. “My bet is _Away in a Manger_ , then.”

Dean still wasn’t convinced. “What about the Jewish guy?”

You rolled your eyes. “Do you guys not know any Christmas carols?? That one would be _Deck the Halls_ , and the other one was _Silent Night_.”

Dean grimaced. “This sounds witchy. Sonuvabitch! I hate witches.”

It was three weeks later, and you were no closer to figuring out who the witch was. With the holiday shutting everything down, the three of you had decided to just take the day off like the rest of the world, for a change. If everyone was at home celebrating, chances were they wouldn’t be out and about getting cursed. It was a great plan, until Dean got hit, and it showed up Christmas morning.

You and Sam ran downstairs, guns cocked and ready to shoot whatever had made Dean scream like that. Neither of you were prepared for what you saw.

Dean had drawn the short straw and had to sleep in the living room, while you and Sam got the bedrooms upstairs. You’d almost given Dean your room to make your furtive decorating easier, but you’d managed to get everything together without waking Dean. Something had woken him up, though.

You suspected it was the hippo.

 Dean was standing next to your little tree, dressed in flannel pajamas and covered in tinsel, holding a defensive stance against a real, live, hippo. The hippo seemed completely nonplussed about the whole thing, just standing there in the middle of the living room, so big it touched three walls, chomping on yet more tinsel. There was no non-magical way the hippo could have gotten into the house, and no non-magical reason for wanting to put a hippo inside of a house, far away from anything that could even remotely be considered its natural habitat.

Suddenly, you were glad Dean hadn’t gotten one of the upstairs bedrooms. You didn’t think residential homes were built to have full-grown hippos on their second floors.

While Dean uselessly defended his life against the gigantic animal, Sam just looked puzzled, and you burst out laughing. Both brothers looked at you in surprise, never having known you to laugh hysterically in the middle of a crisis before. Their faces made the whole situation even funnier to you, and soon you were gasping for air, making loud wheezing noises with each inhale, doubled over and holding your stomach. You laughed until it became painful, and then laughed some more at how disgusted the Winchesters looked at your laughing.

After a full five minutes of laughing, during which you collapsed onto the top step of the staircase, you finally managed to breath normally, and your laughter eased. Sam and Dean were now both trying to judge how murder-y a hippopotamus might be, and how they might best defend themselves and you, since you were obviously helpless.

When you were finally quiet, you apologized. “I’m so sorry, guys. I just couldn’t take it. It’s just too funny!”

Dean grimaced before growling, “What kind of Christmas song involves a fucking HIPPO??”

Sam tried to shush Dean, probably thinking that yelling around a wild animal wasn’t the best idea, but the hippo continued to be unimpressed by its surroundings. The exasperation on both of their faces kickstarted another burst of laughter, but you managed to finally control yourself. Your answer was still punctuated with snorted giggles, though. “It’s called _I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas_ , Dean.”

Dean threw up his hands and turned to walk out of the room as he yelled, “I fucking HATE WITCHES!!!”


End file.
